


like calls to like

by lionlannister



Category: Narcos (TV), Narcos: Mexico (TV)
Genre: Choking, Marking, Multi, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 02:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionlannister/pseuds/lionlannister
Summary: She had loved him as a girl, had seen him as a good man who would protect her. She knows better now but still she comes here, still she climbs in his bed, maybe she wants him more now that she knows the truth of him. He’s not a human, he’s something careless and cruel and she wants to dig her hands into the red of him to see if it would burn like poison. The truth of him is terrible but so is she.





	like calls to like

**Author's Note:**

> For the sock chat gremlins.
> 
> this is about characters from the show Narcos: Mexico, and not about any real people living or dead. Translation Convention applies, everything should be assumed in Spanish but as I cannot write Spanish I did not.

Isabella made sure her legs were spread wide on the couch, taking up as much room as possible to make sure all the men in this room saw her. Knew she was there, supposed to be there, and would not be moved. None of them will sit beside her except Amado, maybe Miguel if he was feeling brave but today he’s decided he needs to be standings over them. So he does. Amado is beside her, there’s room for another on the couch even with her wide stance and his long legs. The brothers stand behind the couch, other plaza leaders scattered through the room and all of them looking at Miguel Ángel with a mixture of adoration and hatred. They sicken her. Never mind that she knows her eyes show the same things sometimes, never mind that he was inside her only two hours ago. 

Miguel speaks, they all listen. Those are the rules now. This has never been a democracy and he has long since stopped pretending it was or that he’s even capable of such a thing. It’s only when Amado sits forward, reaching for the table in front of them to grab his drink that she sees the bruising in his neck. Though she had been there when it was made, has watched Miguel’s teeth dig into his skin like he wanted to tear it apart, she hadn’t thought they would show up so clearly. Dark and obvious and impossible to hide. If anyone else looked they would surely see them, would wonder who put them there. What would they do if they knew it was their terrible Miguel Ángel? 

She could tell them, the vindictive part of her wants to just to see what they would do to him. How would they look at him if they knew he took Amado to bed as easily as he took her? They might hate him. There’s a flash of exhilaration and joy at the thought of turning them all against Miguel with just a few words. Then he would see how powerful she could truly be. But no, not like that, that will not be how his empire is taken from him. She’ll find another way. And in the meantime she’ll come when he calls, touch him, fuck him, do whatever it is he wants. She wants it too, she does, and fuck the bastard he knows it. 

A traitor to her mind and body, the moment he touches her or looks at her Isabella wants him. It’s disgusting. The day he stops touching her she’ll rip them all apart. 

The meeting, lecture really, ends before the thought finishes. She does not speak unless spoken to, in that she is the same as the men here. They have all learned their places so perfectly but none more perfectly than Amado. He stays sitting on the couch, told to do so by a look in Miguel’s eyes but he makes her stand before motioning for her to stay, likes to make her jump. He did long ago too, would stand behind trees and scare her. She had thought it was a game, maybe it had been practice. 

He walks them to the elevator, leaving his two favorites in the office alone as the door closes behind Miguel. Isabella can’t stop herself, the anger and cruelty she keeps in her chest whenever in these meetings comes to the surface. Amado is the only one to take it out on so she does. Reaching one slim hand to his neck, pressing two fingers hard against the biggest of the bruises Miguel left on him.

The man inhales but doesn’t pull away, how well trained he is. It must hurt but she imagines if she were Miguel he would lean into the pain, they both do when it comes to him. “Do you enjoy it, Amado? Being his plaything?” Isabella keeps her voice soft though she knows they’re alone. Them and whatever bugs might be planted here. 

Amado flushes but meets her eyes, unashamed and even empowered by the bruises on his skin and the pain they bring when she presses into them. “Do you?” The words make her grimace, press harder on his bruise just to hear him inhale sharply. “They all know that he’s fucking you, Isabella, you’re Miguel Ángel’s toy.” 

As if summoned by those words Miguel renters the room, eyes impossibly dark and observant when they land on the people on his couch. Isabella’s fingers, Amado’s open mouth and red cheeks. He locks the door and Isabella hates the way she clenches her thighs at that, knowing what the look in his eyes means. “Keep pressing on it, mija, harder.” Despite how soft his voice is they can hear the order in it and she obeys, pressing forward with all her strength until Amado gasps. 

She doesn’t take her eyes off Miguel as he stalks into the room, dropping himself into a chair across the table from them. His legs spread wide and they both watch him closely as he undoes the top two buttons on his shirt. It’s these little moments where he lets them in, let’s then see the parts of himself that he hides from the rest of the world. She wants him to fuck her. Wants to watch him fuck Amado. Wants wherever he wants. So she digs a nail into the bruise at Amado’s neck just to watch Miguel grin. 

“Good girl.” She bristles, hates him for those words but hates that she grows wet at the sound of them even more. 

She had loved him as a girl, had seen him as a good man who would protect her. She knows better now but still she comes here, still she climbs in his bed, maybe she wants him more now that she knows the truth of him. He’s not a human, he’s something careless and cruel and she wants to dig her hands into the red of him to see if it would burn like poison. The truth of him is terrible but so is she. They would burn each other up. Amado would too because for all the easy smiles and the way he goes weak at Miguel’s touch he’s just as terrible as them, he watched a man be buried alive and didn’t even blink. Like calls to like. They called to each other. All three of them. She hates them and loves them in equal measure. 

It doesn’t take Miguel’s observant nature to notice that Amado is growing hard despite the only pressure being Isabella on his neck. And the ever present weight of Miguel’s eyes, she supposes, trained to his pilot’s face with something close to affection. As close as he gets recently at least. “Stop, Isabella.” She presses once more, hard enough to make him groan and Miguel to glare at her not obeying him fast enough, before pulling her hand away. “Do you like that, perrito? When she presses against the bruises I left?” It’s question but only barely, they all know the answer before Amado nods.   
Miguel shoves himself away from his chair, moving towards them until he’s standing between Amado’s spread legs. “You like it when I mark you.” That time it isn’t a question and Isabella watches his eyes carefully, to see if he’s planning something. He always is. Reaching out he motions Amado forward, cupping the back of the man’s neck and letting him rest his forehead against Miguel’s stomach. 

Isabella looks up at him, half a challenge in her eyes and he meets it with his own. “I’m going to suck your cock, Amado, and while I do Isabella is going to wrap her hand around your neck. She’ll be the one hurting you and I’ll make you feel good.” So that’s what he wants, to play the gentle lover while making her the villain. Fine. 

Miguel’s fingers are so soft on the back of the other man’s head that Isabella almost feels like she’s intruding on something but when he slips to his knees between his long legs their eyes meet again. Rage and want and love and betrayal in his eyes, in her’s too she knows. “Perrito, put your hand in Isabella’s pants, finger her while I suck you. Won’t you?” It’s not a request. 

“Yes, Miguel.” Isabella sits back against the couch, spreads her legs just like Amado’s but doesn’t push them down or even open them, she likes Amado’s long fingers to do the work. 

And they do it beautifully, she hasn’t understood what Miguel saw in the man until she’d focused on his fingers. Though she imagines the main thing the boss sees in him is the way he adores him, the way Amado will do anything he asks. But his fingers open her pants quickly, they’ve done it before, and when he touches her over her underwear she gasps. Already wet from the play they’ve done before and the way Miguel’s breath hitches makes her wetter. 

He is playing a role though so he doesn’t look at her, doesn’t look at Amado’s fingers rubbing her to get her wetter before he slips them inside, Miguel’s eyes never move from Amado’s face. The attentive lover looks good on him. Like a mask he might have actually had it he were a better man, a man she would’ve fucked once and grown bored with too quickly. Miguel’s hands worked just as quickly just as competently as Amado’s as he pulls out the other man’s cock. Already hard for him. 

Miguel on his knees, Miguel with his eyes wide and lips open as he takes the head of Amado’s cock between his lips. It looks like something from a fairytale. The moment before the knight reveals himself to be a tyrant. Amado’s long fingers go still as he watches Miguel take him into his mouth and she doesn’t blame him, she can hardly take her eyes off him as well, but she does wrap a hand around his wrist and grinds herself down onto him to get his attention. 

Only when Miguel has taken him in all the way, his cheeks hollowed and his eyes closed that Isabella reaches up, wraps her palm around Amado’s neck and squeezes. Her thumb digging into one of the bruises on his neck left by Miguel. “Fuck, Isabella.” Amado grunts out, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes as his hips push up into Miguel’s mouth. He allows it. “Harder.” She does as he asks, commands, and grips his neck tightly.   
Miguel is moving slowly on his length, taking it in his mouth before pulling nearly completely off and going back down again. One of Amado’s hands is on the back of his neck though he doesn’t dare press him down onto his cock despite how much he probably wants to. And Isabella knows he wants to, can see the strain in his arms. “Don’t you want to mark him the way he does you?” Her voice is low, like it’s a secret between the two of them, like Miguel doesn’t have Amado’s cock in his mouth. “You could, you’re stronger than him.” She sounds so sweet, the voice she’s used to get men on her side before, it’s almost always worked. As if he’s trying to shut her up he slips two fingers inside her, the angle awkward but he’s done this before. Not as adept at making her come as Miguel but he’s a quick study and he scissors his fingers inside her, using his thumb at her clit. 

It does not work, she’s having too much fun to be quiet now. “Just dig your fingers into him, just a little, Amado?” She punctuate the question with a moan, moving his hand where she wants it and all but fucking herself on his fingers. “Leave pretty fingerprints on the back of his neck so when you see him you’ll remember this. Miguel on his knees for you, his mouth around your cock so beautifully.”

And it is beautiful, even Isabella will admit that. Miguel is taking his time, whenever his lips aren’t around part of Amado’s cock his hand is and he has learned just the ways to make Amado weak for him. In every way. He’s using all those tricks now. And his eyes. They’ve finally moved from Amado onto her, a sharp glare makes her know that she’ll likely pay for the game she’s playing here tonight. So she grins at him. “What is it, Miguel Ángel?” She’s breathless now though she suspects Amado will finish before her and Miguel won’t let her come. “Do you not like the idea of his fingers digging into you? His teeth in your neck? The same treatment you show?” He’s allowed to hurt, to scar, to destroy. But they are not granted that with him. No one is. Amado knows that and so he shakes his head, the good puppy, though all three of them know it’s a lie. He wants as much as she does to dig his hands into Miguel’s chest and see what comes out. He’s just better at hiding it.

They are all of them covered in blood. Every inch. Every bit killers and liars and they never pretend otherwise. So, yes, Amado wants to rough him up but he won’t because he wants to keep coming to his bed more than he wants to have all the power for one moment. Isabella though, is more willing to walk a dangerous line. “When you come in his mouth, think about that. Think about the way it would feel to see your bruises on him. How he would try to cover them so no one knew what he let you do to him.” That part is all fantasy, no one can know that Amado is in his bed, Miguel would kill them both before he let that be known. But it does its job, it makes him moan and push his cock further into Miguel’s mouth. Spilling himself inside before falling back onto the couch like he’d just run the length of Guadalajara. 

Miguel pulled off his cock without looking away from Amado but turned to spit into a trashcan near them quickly. He did not swallow. But he came back to the couch, reaching a delicately long fingered hand out to pull Amado’s hand from her pants. As she suspected, she was not allowed to finish after annoying him. He doesn’t speak to her, instead sitting on Amado’s other side and running a gentle hand through his hair. “Did you enjoy that, my pilot?”   
Isabella rolls her eyes rather than listen to his answer, which will be yes, instead she focuses on the way Miguel touches him. Softly. Tenderly. Like he’s something precious and not a chess piece to be moved. It’s a lie, everything about it is, but Amado craves it anyway. She does too, that’s the secret she will not speak, she wants him to touch her like that. She hates that he won’t, hates even more that sometimes he comes close. 

When she looks back at him he’s watching her, Amado half asleep on his shoulder. “You earned that, perrito, earned it by being good for me. Knowing what I want.” He’s mocking her, making sure she knows why he doesn’t touch her like he’s touching the other man. “Isabella is going to go now, leave us alone, would you like that?” 

When she closes the door behind her she sees, just for a moment, Miguel’s face shift as he watches her. His eyes grow softer, like he’ll miss her but not nearly enough to call her back. Good, let him be the one to suffer for his whims for just one night.


End file.
